


Asphyxiation

by TetrodotoxinB



Series: Whumptober 2019 [19]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Day 19, Like literally y'all it's a lot of blood, Prompt: Asphyxiation, Whumptober 2019, but also we don't talk about how it got there, it's just sorta there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 21:29:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21088127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TetrodotoxinB/pseuds/TetrodotoxinB
Summary: There's not much that's less dignified than being smothered on the bread aisle, except maybe next to the cat litter.





	Asphyxiation

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [Secret_Library98](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Secret_Library98/pseuds/Secret_Library98).

“It’s clear,” Duke calls to Danny as he and Steve head towards the door of the supermarket.

There’s a scuffle off to their right, and Danny looks to see Pua and another uniformed officer struggling with a man in handcuffs.

“I’m gonna go give them a hand. Meet you inside,” Steve says, taking off across the parking lot to help the officers contain the man who is still handcuffed but currently airborne as he flails against them.

Danny doesn’t mind one bit not being party to that particular debacle, and he heads into the Safeway. The trail of blood makes it a tad obvious where he’s headed and Danny moseys his way on over to the bread aisle.

“Ooh,” Danny says, cringing as he takes in the sight. “Clean up on aisle-” he looks up for the nearest sign, “-six.”

Arterial splatter covers the shelves of bread, and there is a distressingly large pool on hideous peel-and stick-vinyl tile by his feet. Danny edges around the area, careful not to disturb any evidence, and takes a look at the scene from another angle. There’s one trail of splatter that’s directionally different and Danny crouches to get a better vantage point on the trajectory. That’s when he sees the duffle bag wedged underneath the shelf with the whole-wheat bagels.

Mindful of the truly staggering amount of blood on the floor, Danny scoots a little closer, pulls on a pair of gloves, and sticks his arm under the shelf to retrieve the bag. It slides out and Danny finds that the bag is also bloody indicating that it had to have been stashed after his good friend, Mr. Potato Head, was murdered. 

He unzips the bag, eager to see what was so important that it needed to be stashed. There’s cash, though not a staggering quantity, a pistol, and some _recently used_ knives. Danny leaves everything in the bag and strips off the gloves to dig in his pocket for his phone.

There’s a thump behind him and Danny turns right as he hits the call button for Steve. There’s a man — very obviously their perp judging by the state of his clothes — standing between Danny and the milk refrigerators. 

“You just had to go looking, did you?” he sneers.

Danny reaches for his gun, but before he can draw, much less aim, Danny finds himself under assault by sourdough. He blocks the loaves, sending packaged bread and slices alike, flying everywhere. 

From the floor where Danny’s dropped his phone in the melee, Steve’s concerned voice calls, “Danny? Danny? Hey, what’s going on?”

“Help, Steven!” Danny shouts right before the man tackles him. 

They skid across the floor, right through the largest pool of blood, and Danny loses his grip on his gun. Danny was already at a distinct disadvantage with this man on top of him but without his gun he's hard pressed to defend himself. 

Danny takes a few solid blows and then lands a couple himself. It's enough of a distraction that he's able to buck his assailant off and slide free with the aid of the copious blood. He scrambles for his gun, but as soon as his fingers touch the barrel, a bag smelling of onion bagels is pulled tight over his face. 

Immediately, Danny's focus turns to the bag, his fingers tearing at the thin plastic. Just as he starts to make headway, a knee lands hard over his right kidney. Danny groans in pain, or at least his lungs make that motion, and he finds himself pressed flat into the floor. From his new position, only Danny's right hand can reach his mouth but the man twists the bagel bag tight in one hand and uses the other to pin Danny's hand to the floor, stopping him from pulling at the plastic.

Desperate to escape before he passes out and dies, Danny thrashes hard and tries with his free hand to reach back and grab his attacker. But there's nothing there, nothing to grab and nothing to hurt. Nothing to stop what's happening. 

The ache in Danny's lungs comes first, the burning acidosis of carbon dioxide poisoning. Bit by bit the burning becomes unbearable and gives way to the panic only felt when someone is deprived of oxygen. Danny's years of martial arts practice are lost to the terrified thrashing of impending asphyxiation. 

It doesn't take long before Danny's motions grow uncoordinated and his vision begins to grey. If he could, Danny might laugh at the sheer hilarity of his impending death by bagel bag. 

Two loud shots ring out and a heavy weight falls on Danny. But the thing is _so heavy_ and Danny just can't move. Suddenly, the bag rips away from his mouth and Danny gasps, his whole body spasming as the relief of fresh air rushes through his body.

"Danny, hey, you're alright. Just breathe," Steve coaxes. He's pressing Danny onto the floor, one hand on his shoulder and the other at his neck feeling for a pulse. 

Steve grabs his phone and presses the walkie talkie function. "We need a medic in here," he calls. A chorus of "copy" follows and Steve turns his attention back to Danny. "You alright?" Steve asks.

Danny shakes his head. "I hate Hawaii," he mumbles, still dazed. 

Steve laughs that big loud laugh that he saves for when something that could have gone so wrong ends up okay. "Yeah, Danno. I think you're gonna be fine."


End file.
